Fair warning: There be smut here. Just a smidge. :)
Silent Misery R&R - Chapter 9
by HidingInSight
At the end of a really, REALLY, long day...
Gibbs took two Vicodin, then brushed his teeth once more before finally laying down for the night. Fornell watched him, uncertain of his welcome. Usually, Gibbs sleeping up here meant he wanted company. Fornell wasn't at all sure that applied this time. As much as he wanted to hold Gibbs close tonight, protect him from the demons that would surely come, he was fully prepared to sleep in his bedroom for the duration if that made his partner more comfortable.
"Tobias, come to bed," Gibbs said softly when he saw Fornell's hesitation. The FBI man smiled.
"Let me get changed and turn out the lights. I'll be right back." Quickly, before Gibbs could change his mind, Fornell slipped down the stairs and checked the house was secure before turning out all the lights. Gibbs had started locking the front door at night when they were together to prevent an embarrassing revelation should one of his team decide a midnight conference was necessary. It hadn't happened yet, but Fornell figured it was inevitable. He hurried back to his bedroom and stripped, pulling on house pants and a t-shirt. He left his clothes where they fell. After a moment's thought, he removed his sidearm from its holster and took it with him to the master bedroom. Gibbs noticed the gun on his return.
"Need to report our weapons stolen," Gibbs said, like the thought had just occurred to him. And maybe it had.
"I had McGee take care of it," Fornell said. "There'll be new ones ready for you when you get back to work." Fornell laid the gun on the nightstand on his side of the bed and climbed in. With a small sound of pain, Gibbs rolled over to face him. The moonlight was coming in through the open shutters over the bedroom windows, partially illuminating the bed.
"What story did you give him?" Gibbs asked. He reached across the space between them and brushed his fingers through the thin hair at Fornell's temple.
"I told him you'd explain tomorrow," Fornell said.
Gibbs nodded. "Thank you." He fell silent, watching Fornell from a distance of a foot or less. Finally he spoke again, his voice a mere whisper in the dim light.
"Will you just... lay with me?" Gibbs asked. Fornell heard the unspoken message, loud and clear: Would he share the bed without touching, without initiating anything, without asking for anything?
"Yes," Fornell said. "For tonight and for as long as you need. I'm just glad you're here."
"Me too," Gibbs said.
*x*x*x*x*
It didn't surprise Fornell when he was awakened by Gibbs twitching and crying out in his sleep. He'd fully expected it. It did surprise him that it was nearly dawn when it happened. He opened his eyes to find Gibbs spooned back against him in an almost fetal position, his hands fisted at his groin. As he watched, Gibbs' leg kicked out and he mumbled something in a stressed tone that Fornell couldn't quite make out. Fornell leaned in slightly to whisper in Gibbs' ear.
"Wake up, Jethro," he said.
The reaction was immediate. Gibbs stiffened, then launched himself off the bed, tore open the top drawer of the nearby dresser, jerked out the Walther P-22 holstered beneath the dresser top, and swung it around to point it directly at Fornell. The G-man was impressed.
"Get out!" Gibbs shouted.
"Jethro, wake up," Fornell said calmly.
Gibbs stared at him with wild eyes for a five count, then he blinked a few times and his expression cleared. The muzzle of the gun instantly swung up to point at the ceiling and Gibbs took a hard breath.
"You awake now?" Fornell asked. Gibbs nodded and gently set the gun on the nightstand without looking away from Fornell. He stood for a moment before breaking eye contact, then sat on the edge of the bed and dropped his head to his hands. Fornell shuffled across the bed and sat up beside him.
"You okay?" he asked. Gibbs nodded without looking up. Fornell risked bumping his thigh against Gibbs'. The action made the Navy man look sideways at him, dropping his arms to lean elbows on knees.
"It's alright," Fornell said. Gibbs shook his head.
"I almost shot you," Gibbs said miserably.
"You didn't," Fornell said.
"I could've," Gibbs said.
"Not with that gun," Fornell said. When Gibbs frowned, Fornell leaned across Gibbs to the nightstand, picked up the gun and released the clip, showing it to him. It was empty.
Gibbs frowned, obviously confused. "I keep it loaded," he said.
"I know. Which is why I unloaded it last night while you were in the shower. Along with every other gun in the house. The only serviceable weapon left around here is mine." He pointed over his shoulder.
"Why?" Gibbs asked.
"Loaded guns and recent trauma are a bad combination," Fornell said. "I didn't want to get shot." He paused. "Or have to explain to your team how I let you shoot yourself."
Gibbs nodded. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths in through his nose and out through pursed lips, trying to flush out the adrenalin rush.
"You make any other changes I should know about?" Gibbs asked after his heart rate and breathing had settled to manageable numbers.
"Locked the doors," Fornell said. Gibbs made a "hmm" sound. Fornell continued. "There's a hell of a lot less bourbon in the house than there was 24 hours ago."
"Did you leave me any?" Gibbs asked.
"Some," Fornell said.
"Enough?" Gibbs asked.
"Probably not," Fornell said.
Gibbs nodded again. Another period of time passed before he spoke again.
"I was dreaming," he said.
"I figured," Fornell said. "About yesterday?" he asked.
Gibbs nodded. He said nothing for a long moment. "You startled me," he said finally.
"When?" Fornell asked.
"When I felt that," he said, gesturing vaguely toward Fornell.
Fornell frowned, not understanding. Gibbs waved a hand more specifically toward Fornell's middle, and Fornell looked down at himself. His house pants were tented with morning wood. His gaze immediately shifted to Gibbs' lap, which was showing nothing.
"Sorry," Fornell said. He fought a sudden urge to cover up.
"It's alright," Gibbs said.
"Nothing I can do about that," Fornell said, willing it to go down. It hadn't worked in high school, and it didn't work now.
"I can," Gibbs said. He turned slightly on the bed and reached across, laying a hand gently on Fornell's thigh. He held it there for a minute, eyes down. Fornell looked at him, saying nothing. Gibbs' hand slid inwards and turned to cup his erection. Fornell stayed still. Wrapping his hand fully around him, Gibbs squeezed gently, turning what had been a pure physiological response to REM sleep into something more purposeful. When Gibbs applied more pressure, Fornell's breath hitched a little and he bit the inside of his lip. He was watching Gibbs' face, seeking an invitation to reciprocate, and finding none. Gibbs kept his gaze down, looking at his hand. He began to rub Fornell through the cloth and the fed closed his eyes, struggling to stay still.
The rhythm built and the pleasure with it. Fornell leaned backward on his hands and began rocking his hips slightly in response. He felt a familiar tingling in his balls and knew he was getting close. Just as he thought he was about to fall, Gibbs' hand slowed and then stopped. Fornell's eyes fluttered open and he looked over at Gibbs, breathing hard. Gibbs was staring at him intently, his gaze narrowed and his mouth set in a line, his hand resting atop Fornell's straining erection.
"Please," Fornell said, his voice strangled. Gibbs said nothing, just kept staring, his hand not moving.
A few moments passed and Fornell caught his breath. He held Gibbs' eye, his brain too scattered to make sense of what was happening.
"Please, Jethro, move," he said, and Gibbs licked his lips before giving him a small smile. Gibbs moved, but instead of resuming his stroking, he carefully stood and turned to kneel on the floor in front of Fornell, wincing only a little at the pressure on his knees. He reached across and slipped his fingers through the fly of Fornell's loose pants, twisting the button free as he went. Fornell wasn't wearing underwear. When Gibbs' fingers brushed against Fornell's hardness, Fornell couldn't keep back a groan. Gibbs took him fully in hand before raising his other hand to Fornell's face, locking their eyes again. He cupped his cheek, a thumb resting against the corner of his mouth, and squeezed his erection. It only took a few strokes before Fornell came with a cry, his seed spilling over Gibbs' hand. Gibbs held him while the spasms died, his hand warm and wet.
"Thank you," Fornell said when he could speak again. Gibbs smiled and finally withdrew his hand. He stared at the mess there, raising his hand part way to his face before jerking back slightly. He wiped his hand clean on Fornell's pants, then used Fornell's knees to push himself to his feet.
"Can I...?" Fornell asked, gesturing toward Gibbs' groin. Usually that kind of activity would have Gibbs ready for his own piece of the action, but his sweats revealed his lack of arousal. Gibbs shook his head and retreated to the bathroom. The water ran for a minute while Gibbs washed his hands before he returned with a wet cloth, handing it to Fornell.
Without another word, Gibbs turned and headed for the bathroom again. He began to swing the door shut, stopping when Fornell called out to him.
"Don't lock it?" Fornell asked. Gibbs nodded again and closed the door. Fornell sat with the cloth in his hand, his breathing and heart rate slowly returning to normal, until he heard the sounds of Gibbs once again brushing his teeth. With a sigh, he shoved down his pants and used the cloth to clean himself up.
The water in the sink stopped, and the shower started. Fornell went back to his bedroom and considered getting dressed. It was barely 5:30 in the morning, on a day neither one of them was going to work. Maybe he could convince Gibbs to come back to bed when he got out of the shower. On that thought, he went to his room and changed into a fresh set of sleep pants. He went downstairs to retrieve the ointment and bandages for Gibbs' wrists before returning to their bed.
The shower was shorter this time, only 15 minutes or so. Gibbs emerged in a cloud of steam, dressed again in his sweats, his towel-dried hair sticking up in all directions. He saw Fornell lying on the bed and paused.
"Come back to bed, Jethro. It's early."
Gibbs stood in the doorway for a moment before raising his hands to show the wounds on his wrists.
"I've got it," Fornell said, sitting up and picking the supplies off the nightstand. Gibbs carefully lowered himself onto the bed in front of Fornell, who quickly redid the bandages. They laid down facing each other. Gibbs placed a hand under his head, and after a moment, rested the other hand against Fornell's chest. He bent his knees so their legs touched. Fornell took that as a tentative grant of permission and reached out to mirror Gibbs' position. He did a quick visual scan. The bruises on Gibbs' neck were darker this morning, almost black against his skin. The petechiae hadn't gotten any worse, thankfully.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Fornell asked.
"Tired," Gibbs said. His breath was a wash of mint so strong Fornell wondered if he'd left some toothpaste behind.
"How's your pain?"
"Bearable," Gibbs said.
"You need pain meds?" he asked.
"Just took some," Gibbs said. Fornell nodded, hiding his surprise.
A few minutes passed as the men looked at each other before Gibbs spoke again.
"I can't promise that isn't going to happen again," he said.
"I hope it does happen again. A lot," Fornell said. Gibbs smiled a little.
"Not that," he said.
"Too bad. Cuz that was pretty nice."
The smile got a bit bigger. "I'm serious," Gibbs said.
"So am I," Fornell said. "But I know what you mean, and it's okay. We'll keep the guns unloaded as long as you need."
"I can be dangerous without a gun," Gibbs said. "Maybe we ought to sleep separate until this thing resolves."
Fornell considered that, then carefully phrased his response.
"If you need to sleep alone for a while, I don't have a problem with that," Fornell said. "But don't think you're doing it to protect me. I'm with you on this, Jethro. For better or for worse. Whatever comes up, we'll handle it."
Gibbs nodded a little and pet at Fornell's chest. "I could hurt you," he said.
"Not likely," Fornell said. "I may be older than you, but I'm still pretty quick."
A smile and a grunt of humor from Gibbs, followed by another time of silence.
"I don't want to feel this way, Tobias," Gibbs said after a while.
"I know," Fornell said.
Gibbs nodded again. As usual, Fornell understood him without explanation. It was one of the things he loved about the man. He opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped and sighed instead. The quiet in the bedroom grew long, but not uncomfortable. Gibbs pushed his hand under Fornell's shirt. He began to draw idle circles on Fornell's chest, twisting his fingers through curls of chest hair. The touch was intended to comfort and connect, not to arouse, and it was good. Gibbs snuggled further into the bedding, sliding his knee between Fornell's. Fornell slid his hand around to gently rest it on Gibbs' hip. They lay together in the increasing light, drifting a little, neither fully asleep nor fully awake, until Fornell's phone began to shrill and startled them both.
To be continued.